


yours

by darling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, current arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21669142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling/pseuds/darling
Summary: kenma's jersey is with kuroo. kuroo's jersey is with kenma. and it's not so much that they're the last to know what all this means as it is the fact they know at a gradual, evenly connected pace: a steady heartbeat.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kozume Kenma, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 211
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics, Recommended KuroKen Fics





	yours

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. i just wanted to write soft kuroken with a lot of hinata and kenma so i did. admittedly sparked by one of mookie's recent arts which i hope is okay to say! ;3;/   
> 2\. ahhh this will be not totally coherent if you're not caught up with the manga T_T;  
> 3\. i am! so! proud! of! my! son! i! just! want! him! to! be! happy! <3  
> 4\. it's 3am and i am not responsible. but i do love these boys. so.   
> 5\. <3

  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


"hey, that's--" yaku peers at the jersey in kuroo's closet. kuroo, not looking up from his haphazard piles of books, notes, and well-gnawed pencils, hums acknowledgement and then says,

"yep."

yaku laughs and leaves the closet door half-open, the jersey just barely visible. 

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


"isn't that--" shouyo squints at the screen of his computer. kenma can tell he's pointing and knows full well what he's pointing at but he smiles his slow sharp smile at him and says,

"what's what?"

shouyo misses the coyness as shouyo misses an array of things not happening on a volleyball court in the gym or on the beach but kenma kind of likes that about him, how even though shouyo has grown taller and a little less rambunctious, he's still interesting to a fault: bright. brighter than anything kenma's ever taken an interest in to this degree without annoyance. 

"isn't that.." shouyo trails off again. squints again. kenma laughs behind his hand and his hair falls into his face when he lowers his head. "you knew what i meant!" 

not apologizing, kenma nods and says, "yeah it is."

there's a pause wherein if this was anyone else, kenma would expect a lot of inane questions he would probably not answer. but this is shouyo, so he's both not surprised and pleasantly surprised when he says,

"i stole kageyama's too." pauses. the manner in which shouyo looks away isn't about self-consciousness as much as it is about thinking. kenma can't help but lean a little closer. "told him i'll give it back the next time we play."

still smiling, a tad less sharp, kenma says, "seems fair."

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


kuroo's jersey fits kenma but not the other way around, a fact which the former laments until kenma tells him to shut up. in return, kuroo tells kenma to go eat some Real Food. and it goes on like that for some time.

just like most of their conversations so far apart.

which call it happens in, neither clearly remembers, though the words 'it looks good on you' rattle around in kenma's head for days after. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


the first night in his new house, kenma falls asleep with his face pressed into a familiar number and smell and feeling and thinks that maybe it's fine as long as kuroo doesn't know. 

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


"how is it out there?" kenma multitasks with the same steady focus he once played volleyball with. most of his followers are used to how he doesn't speak during his streams -- rarely engages in chat and even then only if it seems necessary (almost never.) it's almost a part of his charm. 'your je ne sais quoi' kuroo said once and kenma, more flustered than he'd like to be, said something eloquent in response along the lines of 'yeah whatever'. he doesn't ever say kuroo is right but kuroo is maybe right. kenma has been a part of the youtubing and gaming community so long that his infamy is something he's still sort of detached from. but he guesses it's worth it when it lets him do certain things. he spares a glance from his barrage to his phone where shouyo can be seen stretching. the sun looks scorching. conversely, kenma shivers. no thank you.

"hot," shouyo corroborates but he's grinning ear to ear. 

it's not lost on kenma how shouyo's smile has changed over time, how the sun of him sometimes seem tinged with winter -- not a bad thing, not by a long shot; kenma, for one, is intrigued. he wonders what it means and then, surprised to wonder even after all this time, hums under his breath one soft thought. 

perhaps.

"you need anything?" the chat log is going a mile a minute. kenma isn't reading any of it on purpose but the few feebly swung insults make him roll his eyes. 

"need?" shouyo crouches low and close to the camera. "uhhhhh not really i guess!" he's half turning away when he veers back to the camera's center, so close that his eyes cross. "oh but it's good to talk to you!" 

and kenma, kenma who spent a lot of his life learning to listen to things people don't say just to hear the rest of them, hears shouyo's words more than shouyo actually says them: i miss you, it's kind of lonely out here, i'm doing my best, i won't disappoint you --

\-- you won't regret supporting me.

rather than speak to any of that though, kenma does what kenma does best: regards the boundaries -- respects them.

"you too," he says and then, "next time you're back in japan, you can stay here -- if you want."

the way shouyo beams reminds kenma of a boy on a peach-gold afternoon humming into evening, standing in front of him and telling him he'd make him feel something. 

turns out he was right.

kenma smiles back and means it.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


if kenma gets lonely too he doesn't have a lot of time to dwell on it. between his handful of jobs not excluding university, he barely has time to himself much less to his more isolatory thoughts. but sometimes…

sometimes.

"ah." the frustration is malleable but persistent and kenma turns back and forth several times before getting up to go sit on the interior porch of the house. it's an old one but kenma likes it -- the sense that nothing groundbreaking is happening here in its past or its future. 

by the time he returns to bed he's tired enough to not be embarrassed with how tightly he holds onto the jersey he grabs from the top drawer.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


sometimes kuroo visits. depending on their schedules, it could be high school all over again: kuroo on his stomach as he puzzles over some of his notes (yaku's penned in additions sort of smarting off at him even in print) and kenma using the dip of kuroo's back as his headrest, switch held above him or -- on a more annoying day -- revised terms for the board. at kuroo's elbow: a drink, maybe iced if it's july or hot and softly steaming if it's january. the cup is a cat, its handle the tail. kuroo got this for kenma as a housewarming gift and kenma thought 'it looks like you' but didn't say so. 

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


"you really like him." it's an old tease. kenma almost doesn't even respond. kuroo doesn't mind; reaches out one warm callused hand to ruffle kenma's hair -- it's so long now -- and ignores the halfhearted swat of kenma's own hand to get him to stop. he can tell the difference anyway -- when kenma just doesn't know what to do with him and when kenma genuinely wants him to cease shenanigans. he can't articulate it, which makes it feel a little weird sometimes because he feels like he should be able to even if he doesn't have to. then he thinks about how kenma knows the difference between kuroo's own 'i'm fine' and 'I'm Fine', the there-not-there intricacies of knowing someone for the majority of one's life. and he thinks: well. alright. he stops nagging him about hinata shouyo -- a boy kuroo will not admit he fears but fears nonetheless just a little -- but he does not stop messing with kenma's hair.

by the time kenma pays attention again, kuroo has mindfully left sections at the side of his face down but the rest is pulled back in a fishtail braid. 

he leaves it be overnight and for the next few days his hair is noticeably wavy.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


in kuroo's place there are a lot of photos. all of nekoma of course. several with the captain from karasuno. a good number more with bokuto koutarou. but the overwhelming majority is no surprise to anyone. 

"he's even in the ones you don't think he'd be in," yaku says and it's incredibly fond as he points to a slightly blurred kenma in the background of an especially funny picture where lev has a plate full of barbecue in one hand and the collar of someone's jersey in the other, trying to pull them into the frame. behind him, kenma looks kind of like a gremlin spacing out about who knows what. 

cute, kuroo thinks. then his mind spirals into wondering if kenma is alright -- really and truly alright nothing to do with his financial stability so much as if he's eaten one square meal today, if he's sleeping enough (almost definitely not), if the old house he's in gets too cold this time of year because kuroo is fairly certain it does if his last visit was anything to go by (and that was just Fall!) he's wondering if he should drop everything and go check when a hand on his arm pulls him out of his head. he blinks. yaku stares at him and that's enough really; kuroo breathes.

yeah. no.

kenma would probably be worse off if kuroo did that; because kenma worries too.

anyone who knows him knows that.

the brain is the heart.

of course.

"when are you going to see him again?" yaku asks, clearing the table because it's about time for eating the convenience store food they bought earlier anyway. kuroo takes some of the notes and books and puts them up on his proper desk, ducking his head.

"i was hoping...christmas. but." 

"but?"

"he might not even be around, i guess."

"which job is it?"

"some kind of convention or expo he's supposed to be at. it's not literally on christmas but he'd be flying back either on christmas or after so...yeah."

dinner is quiet. they end up going through their notes again like this. kuroo spills his tea and yaku notes that one of the stains looks like a calico cat.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


sometimes kenma wonders if it's all worth it. then he reasons that he'd have these thoughts no matter what he was doing and at least this way he's got a bit of freedom since the world runs on money and, for now, he's got some to spare.

time passes. 

shouyo leaves him messages and video-chats him more than kenma ever intended him to but shouyo is the very definition of More Than Kenma Ever Intended, so maybe he lets that slide easier and easier. 

kuroo visits when he can and calls when he can't and, to kenma's bemusement, writes too. he gets in the habit of sending kenma tacky postcards and they're always from places they've been to together. one in particular sticks out -- kuroo saying in almost unrecognizable penmanship: let's go again.

when? he thinks and doesn't ask as he tucks the postcard into his carryon and boards his flight, ducking his head against the flash of a few dozen unasked for cameras too close for comfort.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


"maybe if you make a mean face they'll give you more space!" shouyo is stretching again as he often is when they talk because time is precious and neither of them tends to waste it. kenma is crunching some numbers, his hair back in a messy bun that suggests it's even longer than the last time shouyo caught him. this is sort of absurd to say; it's only been a week. still. "how long are you going to let it grow?" 

kenma blinks. 

"don't know. i hadn't...thought about it," he says.

not hard anyway.

he presses his lips into a thin line.

yes. no reason.

really.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


'long hair' kuroo says and kenma is barely paying attention. they are young and the conversation is honestly kind of dumb and it doesn't matter.

it doesn't.

really.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


it's unexpected that kenma gets back on christmas. and he thinks this should be unexpected too: kuroo tetsurou asleep in kenma's own home with the kettle screaming its swan song to the tune of a death threat. it should be. 

and yet it's not.

kenma drops his bag and then drops down himself as well, knees against the mat as he leans over his best friend and presses his nose to the crown of his head. more than this house kenma has had for a while now, more than the things kenma filled it with, more than anything, it smarts and it soothes all in one to acknowledge this: how the even familiarity of this one person is as home as kenma will ever be.

he thinks about a conversation he had with shouyo just a day or two ago.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


after opening their gifts from each other on chat -- for hinata: a specially programmed tablet outfitted for his training and almost anything else he might want to reformat it for (or get someone else to reformat it for), and for kenma: a painstakingly long handwritten letter with some random snacks and other things that aren't fancy or expensive but are things he can't get in japan and has probably never seen before -- they talk as usual. kenma isn't sure how they get on the subject of other friends except that that's maybe the nature of the time of year. 

"what did you get kuroo?" shouyo asks, his eyes glued to the tablet in his hands. 

"bracelet." 

"jewelry?" pause. shouyo looks up. kenma shrugs.

"he saw it the last time we met up." 

stupid kuroo, he thinks. because kuroo being kuroo all but lit up when he saw the bracelet only to immediately pretend he didn't like it at all. and kenma isn't dumb; he knows why -- knows that kuroo doesn't want him to know what he likes if he thinks it's too expensive or frivolous or (even more absurd) too much. but it's ridiculous as far as kenma is concerned; he doesn't put up with all the nonsense he does every day (and night) of his life to not be able to get the things his friends really want.

"hey kenma." 

it's only when kenma looks up that he realizes he'd looked down in the first place. he brushes back the left-side section of his hair to better stare back at shouyo, not apologizing for his distraction but making up for it.

"hm?"

"you're a good friend."

he doesn't expect it. his chest grows tight and his face warm and oh. shouyo. 

the truth is kenma isn't sure he is. 

but he knows he wants to be. 

this in mind, he smiles at shouyo until his eyes close and says, "so are you, shouyo."

so are you.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  


"kuroo." kuroo shifts, still swathed in the cloudiness of sleep. "kuroo wake up." pause. "you're going to complain a lot if you don't get up." this last one has him opening his eyes, slow and a little struggling. the face over his is upside-down which makes him think he's dreaming but maybe he's not. it doesn't matter. either way he'd do this: reach up and draw his fingers down through the soft soft strands of bleach blond hair that shouldn't look good but does. kenma isn't too close but he's close enough for kuroo to see the shadows under his eyes and the slight paleness to his complexion. a touch of kuroo's knuckles to kenma's cheek is gentle, but kuroo frowns. 

"you're cold."

kenma sighs. "when did you get here? why are you here?"

kuroo can't help himself. "why not?" sitting up, he turns and takes in kenma's whole frame. he knows this person and yet he never tires of looking at him, cataloging all the things he already is acquainted with and re-committing them. today kenma's hair is all down though given he just got off a plane perhaps that's less on-purpose so much as a result. kenma keeps staring at him though, so kuroo grabs for his own bag and rummages through until he draws out a neatly wrapped package. the paper glimmers gold and the bow is red. "well, actually, i wanted to give you this in person."

"but--"

"merry christmas," kuroo says and waits. 

with thoughtful hands, kenma accepts the gift, resists the urge to shake it and guess at its contents. instead, he gets his own bag and pulls out another box -- glimmering red with a gold bow. when he hands it to kuroo, they both stare and kuroo bursts into laughter even as kenma huffs a quieter laugh. 

"merry christmas, kuroo."

inside the gold box: a keychain with a nekoma jersey and a small black cat. when kenma turns the shapes over, he finds the number of the jersey changes too: one to five, five to one, back and forth back and forth. 

inside the red box: a bracelet with wooden beads all engraved for seasons, types of weather, and heavenly bodies. the thinly braided string of it is red and when kuroo has kenma loop and tie it off for him, he leans down to say, "thank you," against his temple. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


the intermittent waves of trendy hate are tiring more than actually hurtful. kenma tends to lay low when these surface, not seeing the reason to fight a battle he will not win (what's the meaning or fun in that?) at some point however it gets exceptionally bad, things escalating to physical threat and such high levels of slander that even though kenma doesn't think it's worth bringing out the knives, someone else does.

later, after the fuss has all but vanished this time, kenma learns that legal action was taken.

"against the internet?" he's skeptical to say the least. but his company and kuroo at separate times assure him that words and money make for a strong gameplan. 

things kuroo doesn't say: how he would avoid his news feed to avoid the nonsense that sometimes surrounds kenma's public image except he can't avoid it because he wants to be aware of what's going on. also: how very possibly he, yaku, lev, and taketora all have a handful of accounts they use when they see fit. it's juvenile; they know. but shy of invoking lawyer rights, it's something they can do. 

"against idiots," kuroo amends. huffing an inarticulate response, kenma flops back until his head is in kuroo's lap and closes his eyes, drifts off to kuroo running his fingers through his hair and saying, "you deserve better. you know."

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


the problem with trying to not think too hard about a thing is that that equates to actually doing so.

dangling the keychain up so shouyo can see it through the camera, kenma puffs his cheeks out in thought, then hollows them out in an exhale.

"maybe," shouyo tilts his head, reminds kenma very much of the bird he is. "maybe he likes you."

kenma's alarms sound like a silent laser tripped in some high security vault and he reacts accordingly: makes a nonsensical sound and says, "right."

shouyo, suspiciously still and unnervingly intense, keeps staring directly at him and not doing anything else. kenma fidgets.

"seriously."

"right."

"kenma."

"shouyo."

kenma finally does look away but even in his peripheral vision -- enabled by his hair being tied fully back today since the only person who was going to see him or be seen by him was shouyo and on video at that -- he can see shouyo shaking his head. 

"do you not...want him to?"

the alarms from before become one wild mass of worry that buzzes like an undercurrent of light; kenma isn't sure, if he's honest and maybe it's the surprise of being asked or the surprise of already knowing his own answer or the surprise of things having come to this at all but kenma's speaking before he can stop himself as he says exactly what he's thinking,

"i'm not sure."

a kindness through and through, shouyo just hums an acknowledging sound before coordinating with kenma about the next time they'll see each other. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


kenma takes the charm off only to hang it on the hook where a coat might go, afraid of losing it. it doesn't occur to him that kuroo might take it the wrong way until one day, visiting kuroo for once, he feels him staring.

"what?"

"was it too sentimental?" the way kenma stares at him is blank enough that kuroo has to laugh, but it's a thready nervous thing. kenma frowns.

"i honestly don't know what you're talking about."

rather than say anything, kuroo reaches out and taps kenma's keys sprawled in their multi-metal mass on the table. 

"what? oh. no, not--" kenma shakes his head and it's furious. kuroo is put in mind of the back and forth lash of a cat's tail. "it's at home." pause. "it came off once and..i couldn't find it. i...shouyo found it actually. so." he shrugs a little helplessly, tucking hair behind his ear only for it to fall into his face again when he looks down. "just to be safe, you know."

kenma feels kuroo's hand on his before he feels his other arm reach around to pull him close.

it takes a second. then kenma winds his arms around kuroo and they have never put a name that wasn't 'best friends' to themselves but sometimes --

\-- sometimes --

it feels like maybe they would like to.

come morning, they're both sore from falling asleep on kuroo's floor, but kuroo almost doesn't notice, too distracted the way the pale gold of the morning glances off of kenma's eyes and kenma's hair and kenma's sleepy smile. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


the next time kuroo visits, kenma taps the keychain hanging from the wall's coat rack as they enter, and it's got the idle lightness of a motion that could be absentminded; but kuroo knows better because kuroo knows kenma, kenma who half turns to smile at him like he knows what he's thinking and says,

"i have something for you."

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


they spend the night watching their games. at some point kenma ends up in kuroo's lap, kuroo's arms around his middle. at some point, kenma curls his hands on kuroo's hands. at some point, kuroo squeezes him just for a nanosecond and says,

"we were pretty good."

and kenma thinks: we still are.

but, more topically, says,

"yeah. we were."

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


the last new friend kenma made was shouyo and frankly he's fine with that. he keeps in touch with all of his teammates in greater or lesser degrees, and weirdly sometimes crosses paths with kageyama and ushijima due to bouncing ball. given all of those and then the higher demand of his social interaction due to his gaming (he'll never get over the sheer irony of it), he's almost always on the edge of overdrawn. 

for some reason, it's worse when he goes without seeing kuroo for too long.

shouyo's voice echoes in his head:  _ do you not want him to? _

  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


kenma kisses kuroo on a tuesday. it's raining outside and two of the indoor-outdoor cats are grooming themselves back into some semblance of order close to the kotatsu. kuroo is also sitting at the kotatsu in no semblance of order whatsoever as kenma leans back and peers at him the way he zeroes in on both strengths and weaknesses. they've been this close before; they've been this close for most of their lives. kuroo doesn't know altogether why kenma let him in, and kenma doesn't know altogether why kuroo came in in the first place. not literally. but in general. over days. weeks. months. years. they don't know. and they know. 

the way people do: incomplete but not in a bad way.

or: there is more of you for me to know -- still, somehow, always.

kenma kisses kuroo on a tuesday and knows:  _ i do -- want him to _ .

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


kuroo kisses kenma back on a tuesday. on a wednesday. on a thursday. friday. misses saturday because he has to leave and they pick up again the following wednesday and kuroo kisses kenma when it's raining but also when it's clear and when it's day but also well past midnight.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


"hey that's--" 

a hand slaps kuroo's away sharp. kuroo yelps.

"mine." kenma finishes his sentence, grabs the jersey with the number one on it from where it's tangled in his blankets and doesn't even bother tossing it in the closet -- just bundles it enough to rest his head on. he thinks: of course i still have it. and: why wouldn't i? and: stupid. 

between thoughts like this and what they might get for dinner tonight and what movie they should watch, he dozes off, and kuroo, well aware of the number five jersey still in his own room, smiles. 

says quiet, so as not to wake him,

"yeah."

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  


yours.

  
  
  
  


*


End file.
